


i know i got issues (but they drown when i kiss you)

by blxxm



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, and its not finished by any means but it doesnt feel right to have 17k words waiting to be read, astronomy au, krypton is kinda alive and lena can help with closure au, look theres A Lot of flashbacks but theyre for a good cause, maybe even longer, mild university au, past kara/james - Freeform, so here ya go, tbh this has been sitting unfinished in my docs since february
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 07:47:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blxxm/pseuds/blxxm
Summary: “I want it back,” she says, whispers it into the fabric of Lena’s sweater. “I miss it so much, I miss them all so much.”Lena holds Kara like she’d break, like she’s not the Kryptonian they both know her to be, that she is fragile and frayed at all edges.“I want to help,” Lena tells her, whispers it against her crown. “I can help.”Kara startles then, leans back. Lena’s hand is still in her hair, and Kara is floored by the intimacy they’ve found themselves in, tries to pull away but stuck, Lena’s orbit is too strong, the gravity between them heavy with silence and hope.“How?”Lena smiles, kind and a little sad, shrugs her shoulders with the answer of, “science.”Somehow, it holds more promise than the singular word. That Lena is going to try, until she’s wrecked, until they’re both whole again.--or, the astronomy au my friend begged me to write that Really got away from me





	i know i got issues (but they drown when i kiss you)

**Author's Note:**

> apologies if this feels unfinished, as it basically is. the truth of the matter is, in finding my identity as a transman, i felt i'd lost the voice to write - especially when it came to f/f relationships. however, this has been sitting in my docs since i started it in october last year, untouched since february or march and i felt the need to share it because quite honestly its the work i'm most proud of and the work i'd put the most effort into, ever.  
> so, here you go.  
> oh also slight tw for one of the flashbacks, the R slur is used so feel free to click out of this or skip that part, i understand.  
> again, i apologise it took so long, and thank you all for your patience and i hope you enjoy.

The stars look different from Earth, brighter, clearer, shadowed by the moon. Earth’s stars were not in abundance the way they were on Krypton, but they make up for their numbers with their shine.

Kara watches the stars each night, from the window of her office, to the lens of the observatory, until she sits with her legs beneath herself, eyes cast out as she tries to find resonance, to find some sense of home among them.

Sometimes she flies, wears all black and ties her hair up, shoots off as fast as she can, until she passes the clouds and the fog and the wetness of her eyes turn to ice.

Even surrounded by them, they’re not the same.

She tries to remember what Krypton’s stars looked like, if they were even close to this. But she could not come close enough to touch the stars as a child, Rao was kind but he did not grant her powers the way the yellow sun does here.

She only remembers the way Krypton’s stars bled into the sky, the way Krypton burned brighter than Rao himself. She remembers, from the pod, that Krypton outshone the stars when it collapsed into itself.

Kara goes home and crumbles, hides under her blankets and shakes.

Kryptonians do not do the same as their planet. Kara goes dull and heavy, she cannot even bruise here, left with no trace of pain except what she  _ knows _ herself.

 

* * *

 

Lena’s fingers dig into her thighs, through the fabric of her skirt. She sits, headstrong, posture perfect, across from her brother.

His cell is not barred, but encased in glass. A specimen of insanity for research and display, a creature like no other. 

Lena has learned to dehumanise her brother, strip away all but his name and maybe she can forget how beautiful and brilliant he once was.

“What brings you here, Lee?”

Lex does not (will not) let her forget, though, and she sinks into her chair, hangs her head to breathe and collect herself. She stares him down, jaw clenched and she knows he sees through it, that this is for her more than it is him, and maybe that’s what hurts the most.

“I just wanted to let you know that Mother has not been granted bail,” she feels her nails prick into skin, folds her hands together. “She will rot in the cell they’ve given her, and they will not allow visitors or phone calls.”

Lex nods, chin against his elbows. He sits the same - backwards on the chair, legs apart and spine curved. Lena can hear his voice, from when they were children, when he assured her:  _ “this is how all cool college professors sit, Lee, I’ve gotta look the part.” _

And Lena knows she’s let it go too far now, that Lex has seen it wash over her, and his smile is one she cannot recognise from their youth, one she registers now only as evil.

(Not Lex, not Lex, not Lex.)

“I’m sure you’re real cut up about that last part, huh?”

She stands, the chair kicking back, scraping along the concrete floor. She steels herself not to wince, fingers flinching and she hopes Lex didn’t see.

She fixes Lex a final look, one that assures him she won’t be back.

And he grins at her, waving goodbye with twiddling fingers, because they both know she gives him that look every time.

Lena will be back. Lena is too weak to acknowledge it, and Lex is too jacked up on his own hubris to tell her.

 

* * *

Alex visits her some nights at the observatory, when the streets lull and even criminals need a nap. She raps her knuckles on the door, comes inside without making much noise. She knows this is reverent, that this is a time for something like prayer, so she sits next to Kara, places a hand on her knee and waits for her to turn her head.

Kara does, and its pained, it hurts to look away from the lens, even if there’s a screen only metres away.

“You’ve found it again, haven’t you?” She asks, keeps her thumb firm so Kara knows she’s not alone in the room, that Alex is here and she’s alive even if Krypton isn’t.

“I’ve found a different one,” Kara says, feels her stomach twist because Krypton is in  _ pieces _ and she’s tracking them down just to stare, to just  _ know _ a part of her home is out there. “The last one, it - it did the same thing.”

Alex nods, doesn’t ask if this one will too. She reaches into her jacket pocket, pulls out a bar of chocolate.

“It’s the best I could do, security is really tight around here and they wont let me bring in any bags.”

Kara holds it, gently and lets it rest on the leg Alex isn’t touching. She doesn’t open it, just plays with the discoloured edges of the wrapping.

“Thank you,” she leans, rests her head on Alex’s shoulder, listens to her strong heartbeat as Alex’s fingers weave into her hair.

“Just promise me,” Alex’s fingers stammer, picking back up after she feels them both breathe. “No flying tonight, there’s going to be a storm.”

Kara laughs, a little dark, a little bitter. “I’m bulletproof.”

“Doesn’t mean I want my baby sister flying out and making friends with lightning and hail.”

“You worry too much,” Kara mumbles it into the leather of Alex’s jacket, presses her forehead for a second longer before pulling away, hand on her chest. “But fine, you have my solemn oath that I’ll be here until I go home to sleep.”

“Thank you,” it’s soft, Alex softens around Kara in here, the walls of the observatory containing her, leaving her brashness at the door. “I’m going to let you get back to it, unless you want me to stay?”

Kara shakes her head, hears Alex’s heart pick up and smiles.

“No, definitely not,” and Alex nods, cheeks red, and Kara feels the place between her ribs just for Alex grow warm. “Go see your girlfriend, tell her I say hi.”

“Girlfriend,” Alex stands, a little off balance, bubbly and airy and hopeless. “Yes, girlfriend. Maggie. I’m going to go see her now, okay, bye.”

Kara watches her sister walk on heavy feet, boots stumbling over and she barely makes it out the door in one piece.

 

* * *

Lena sits at her desk, eyes bouncing back between her phone and the clock mounted by the balcony. The call is ten minutes late, her fingers twirl a pen between them, and she is so unravelled that she thinks maybe she’s forgotten the years of training she had been put through.

Her assistant buzzes her, and Lena jumps to answer, not wanting to waste any time.

“I was wondering if you had eaten at all yet, Miss Luthor,” there’s a pause, one that Lena knows they both feel, and she swears she hears Jess sigh. “Would you like me to order something?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she answers, feels her phone vibrate against the table, exhales only when she’s sure it’s just an email.

“You’re no trouble,” and Jess is so  _ sure _ that it breaks Lena’s heart, that someone were to have faith in her, wholeheartedly. “Anything in particular you want?”

Lena’s phone vibrates again, this time it’s a call,  _ the _ call. She manages to blurt out a “surprise me” to Jess the same time she swipes the screen to answer.

She steels herself, sits straighter, tightens her face to something passive and unreadable. Trained, taught, executed.

“Hello?”

_ “Miss Luthor,” _ the voice is gruff but high, and Lena lets her hopes gather before squashing them down.  _ “It’s Richard, from NCU, I’m from the Applied Science Faculty.” _

“Oh, yes, we’ve emailed back and forth.”

_ “Yes, well, the board and I have come to a decision regarding those emails, and your proposal.” _

This is it.

She feels her heart kick, her stomach drop, she feels every nerve in her body stop but keeps her mouth going.

“And that is?”

_ “We’re granting you the research fund, Miss Luthor. Your hypothesis is probable, and your theory is both solid and wonderful, and we’d love to sponsor you in this endeavour.” _

“I,” her throat is tight, she pinches at the bridge of her nose. “Thank you.”

_ “No need to thank us. You will have full access to all our equipment and previous research, and I’m sure professors and students alike will be teeming with conversation if you so choose to have it. You have NCU’s full support, Miss Luthor, and we look forward to working with you.” _

She sinks into her chair, swivels in a circle, merrily, catches the sight of her smile in the balcony window and  _ beams _ .

“Thank you so much, sir.” She can’t recognise her voice, grateful and happy and maybe this is what Lena Luthor is meant to sound like. “You have no idea what this means to me, thank you.”

_ “Show us what you’ve got, kid, and we’ll be thanking you.” _

He hangs up, but Lena keeps her phone clutched in her hand, wonders if this elation is even close to what Lex’s was when he was funded.

She shakes her head, puts her phone down and wrings out her fingers. She is not Lex, she will do good with this research.

She will make sure she  _ stays  _ good.

 

* * *

_ Her Aunt hoists her onto the balcony’s half wall, lets her dangle her legs, kick her feet. Arms secure around her waist, Kara leans back, rests her head against Astra’s shoulder to look up. _

_ The sky is purple, stars a washed and wan yellow, pale, and Kara points at them, arm shooting out fast enough to nearly hit Astra. _

_ “I know it is exciting, Little One,” she says, mirth and charm in her voice and Kara melts. “But perhaps we be careful, hm? Especially when we’re breaking your mother’s rules.” _

_ Kara nods, but stays planted on the balcony, feet tapping against the hardness of it. _

_ “Tell me about the stars,” Kara whispers, careful not to wake her parents. She turns her head, sees Astra’s crooked brow, pouts and adds, “please.” _

_ Astra tuts, but tickles the side of her ribs fondly. “There is not much to tell.” _

_ “But we have the stories of Rao,” Kara crosses her arms, leans off of her Aunt. “What’s so different about them?” _

_ “Rao is our god, our provider. He created all that is, from the worlds, to even you, Little One,” she pokes at Kara, holds her a little tighter, and Kara thinks she always feels most at home like this - surrounded by night sky, kissed goodnight by her parents with her Aunt to tell her stories. “But the stars, they hold no story here. They are the lights for Rao, for our people, they guide us home.” _

_ Kara feels a crinkle grow between her brows, “But Krypton is our home.” _

_ “It is,” Astra nods, reaches for Kara’s hands, points them both upwards, follows the path of stars. “But you see, Little One, we move on. When our time is up, we must leave. That is what our stars are for, they guide us to Rao, to our next life.” _

_ Kara curls into Astra then, holds her tight and doesn’t say anything. But Astra knows, and Kara knows too, that neither of them could imagine having a life anywhere else. _

 

* * *

Lena heads towards the observatory when silence hangs over the university like lacquer, ghosts and guards being all that could possibly stay to this hour.

She takes off her heels, holds them between two fingers as she walks over cold tiles and hardwood, makes uncomfortable eye contact with those who guard doors to exclusive rooms (the Dean’s office not counting, he’s just a paranoid fuck, apparently).

She leaves her heels by the observatory door, takes a breath before entering.

She wasn’t ready for how big this place is. Her eyes scan over the expanse of wall, of  _ room _ , the sheer size of it rivalling even the Luthor conservatory. 

Screens cover the whole left side of the room, the rest plastered with posters and essays of students, graffiti in bold red and black letters:  _ ‘AD WAS HERE 2008’ _ . How original.

She takes a few steps forward, the awe wearing off slightly, until it comes rearing its head.

Because, of course, there’s a telescope that may even be better than the one in her father’s old laboratory (and, of course, there’s a pretty girl beside it).

Her knees tucked to her chest, chin resting in the crevice between her elbow - even with only half her face on display, Lena knows she is heartbreaking and gorgeous and  _ sad _ .

She keeps quiet, makes herself unseen, follows the girl’s gaze to the middle screen on the wall. A world she had not seen before, glowing sickly green, humming almost, is in the centre. Surrounded by space dust, by debris of what was maybe once a moon, it does not revolve, it floats, stagnant.

Lena does not know what she’s intruding on, just that she is most definitely intruding - because the girl’s eyes are startlingly blue, shrouded by red rimmed lids, the kind of blue one only gets through crying (Lena knows, she’s seen her own green to match). 

So, she backs out of the room, careful not to even  _ breathe  _ too loudly, loathe to break this girl from the spell she has put herself under.

She picks up her heels, opens the door and it creaks.

_ “Shit,” _

Lena dashes before she can make eye contact.

 

//

 

Kara doesn’t cry when she gets home, places her keys on the kitchen island and passes by the window.

She is sluggish and she is mourning and she is  _ tired _ , tired of it - of living without closure. She’s not sure if she’d rather never found the pieces of Krypton, because, honestly? Hope is  _ exhausting _ .

It leaves her drained to the bone, muscles worn and face drawn. Kara is tired of pretending, of pretending Krypton could be okay, be  _ whole _ again, that she’s not an alien but a very real human girl with a beautiful adoptive family and a sister and friends she would die for.

The same friends who, with the exception of Winn and James, know nothing of her origin, of her people, of a whole culture and  _ world _ that she has to bear the weight of. That her cousin is a hero, cape and all, and that she’s  _ just  _ an astronomy T.A, that she grades papers that she would have written in eighth grade on her planet, that she’s visited the galaxies her associates can only theorise the possibility of.

Its a real life, a fulfilling one by human standards. But Kara Zor-El is  _ not _ human by any means, sure, her appearance passes - but it’s in those moments, when she gives that student a B+, when Dr. Rosen playfully suggests there could be a planet with dragons - it’s those moments where she is so  _ painfully _ alien, that it carves a section out of her, leaves a notch in her ribs, a tally of the days she can’t tell the truth, can’t risk it all.

She doesn’t cry when she gets home; because despite everything, when she heard that woman’s heartbeat, when she saw the pupil of her eye dilate before she ran, Kara saw recognition.

She saw  _ familiarity _ .

 

* * *

_ Lena watches Lionel as he zooms the lens on the microscope, strong hands that are usually brash, waving, be instead careful, methodical. _

_ She keeps quiet, sits on her hands because they itch with the urge to touch anything and everything she’s surrounded by. It’s the first time Lionel has let her into the laboratory without Lex, the first time she’s ‘grown enough’ to understand what’s expected in this environment. _

_ Still, she taps her feet against the steel leg of the stool, hesitates when Lionel’s head raises to look at her over the lens. _

_ “Lee, do you want to come look at this?” _

_ She jumps off the stool, nods as she rounds the table, eager and bounces and Lionel has to lay his hands gently on her shoulders to settle her. _

_ She stills herself, remembers the first few lessons of etiquette that Lillian had bought for her, remembers the snap of the ruler on her palm if she slouched - she keeps her spine straight, shoulders set, nods more formal, more controlled at her father this time. _

_ He smiles at her, pinches her cheek and she laughs, he melts. _

_ “What is it?” _

_ He lifts her, sits her on the desk (Lillian told her only destitutes sat like this, but Lionel is warm and his eyes catch the apple of her cheek and she loves him, loves how smart her father is, loves that he loves her too). _

_ “It’s DNA, you know what that is,” he starts, and she nods, because she’d stolen readings from Lex’s high school textbooks, photocopied them to show off to her teachers if they called on her. “Well, it's the DNA of an alien.” _

_ “We don’t like aliens,” she says, because that’s what Lillian had told her, because she’d seen Lex grow into the boy who didn’t stop the bullies anymore when they pushed alien kids into the lockers. _

_ “It’s not that we don’t like them,” Lionel makes sure she’s looking at him when he talks, pulls up his own stool to be level with her. “They’re different to us, that’s all. Your mother, Lex, they can take it a bit far sometimes. Which, is why we’re looking at this.” _

_ Lena’s heart flutters at the plural, at the idea that she stands out from her brilliant family, that her father sees her as well - alone, bright and wonderful. _

_ “To show Mom and Lex how aliens are different?” _

_ He smiles, turns the microscope to her. “To show them that DNA isn’t lesser, and isn’t evil. That it’s just DNA.” _

_ Lena leans to look into the lens, sees the cell of the alien, hands fumbling to zoom. Lionel’s hand covers hers, shows her how to rotate the knob until the image is clear, and lets her do it herself once she’s sure. _

_ She sees it, the double helix is different on aliens, but it's the same pattern. She knows, really, that a microscope cant go as far as her father’s technology, that this is just a base, that he probably has scans of their different chromosomes and amino acids. _

_ But it's enough for Lena, and when she pulls away Lionel is looking at her like his star pupil, his prodigy, and Lena had never felt so warm or welcomed into the Luthor family. _

 

* * *

Kara doesn’t go looking for the girl, not really. She stays in her office, door ajar in case maybe the girl comes to find her, in case someone comes in to tell her to stop using the observatory, that they’ve figured out who ( _ what _ ) she is - that it's time for her to leave, because Earth has come a long way in alien politics, but that does not change any laws saying humans are able to discriminate against unregistered aliens.

Winn finds her, knocks on her door and pulls a face when it creaks. She smiles up at him, rosy and just the slightest bit forced, because Winn rarely visits her office, rarely without James in tow.

“Kara, hey,” his hand jitters, pulls out the chair across from Kara’s desk, sits on it with a thud.

She leans forward, puts her pencil on the desk, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, nothing,” his lips quirk, draw a long line across his face that his neck tries to replicate. “Okay, something. Just, the tiniest, little-est, micro something.”

Kara feels her brows crease, her nose scrunch. “Okay?”

“It’s the observatory.” She watches his face go through the five stages of grief before his hands fly up, “Not that you can’t use it, you totally, one-hundred-percent still can. It's just,”

Kara takes her glasses off, rubs the bridge of her nose. 

“Just?”

Winn’s hands rest on his side of the desk, delicately, drums his fingers as he wills himself to speak.

“Just that, you won’t, exactly,” he huffs, slaps one hand down, pulls back with a hiss. “You won’t be alone in there, anymore, technically.”

“Technically.”

“Okay, so, there’ll be another person, human, like, a researcher.” He draws a breath, scratches at the side of his hairline. “If it helps, she’s pretty. Wait, does that help? We never really clarified the whole gay issue.”

Kara laughs despite herself, shakes her head. “What’s she researching?”

Winn lights up, posture perfect before hunching over, leaning forward into Kara’s space.

“Matter concentration and collision in regards to planets.”

Kara cocks her head, “I thought humans already knew about the big bang?”

“We do, but only our galaxy,” his hands move with his words, rolling and flouncing and Kara has to edge back in case Winn breaks a bone on her. “She’s looking into how other planets could do it,  _ if _ they could.”

“And she’s going to the observatory at late hours because this is a top secret research thing,” she says, watches Winn nod and gnaws her lip. “This is huge - if she proves any of this,”

“Then this university will be raking. It. In.” He leans back, rests his hands on his thighs. “And she will have a whole new reason to be a household name.”

“Household?” She picks her pencil back up, taps it twice against the desk. “What, she’s like, a celebrity or something?”

Winn pulls a face, something close to  _ yikes _ , “Or something, definitely.”

 

* * *

Lena hadn’t meant to disturb her, not exactly. It had been raining all day, and Lena was stuck in heels and look, if she had to pick a way to make a memorable entrance, to get this girl’s attention, this was  _ not it _ .

She’d stumbled, right through the door (a ‘slammed her funny bone into the frame, lost a heel, muttered a profanity’, kind of stumbled), watching the girl’s head turn, eyes wide and mouth open and  _ fuck _ , this was not how it was meant to go.

_ If _ the girl was even here, Lena was meant to be cool, collected, an air of comfort and suave surrounding her. She was meant to kindly ask the girl if this was her space, her time, if she should leave or they should share it. Maybe she’d flirt, maybe she’d have to cheer the girl up.

Regardless, tripping over herself and the girl  _ laughing _ was not the way it was supposed to happen.

“Hi there,” the girl says, and  _ god _ , Lena really shouldn’t have seen her smile because she’s smiling too even though she’s made an ass of herself and  _ damn it _ why does this girl have to be so -  _ charming _ ? “Nice of you to drop by.”

Lena groans, takes her other heel off, pads across on bare feet until she’s a metre away from the girl.

“Can we pretend that never happened?”

The girl shakes her head, glasses skewing with a scrunched nose and brimming smile. “Don’t think so, it was quite the entrance.”

“Not the kind I usually make, I assure you,” she takes a step closer, nods towards the spot next to the girl on the ground, waits until she offers it with her hand. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here, in all honesty.”

“Because its so late?”

“Partially,” Lena shrugs. “I figured the observatory was the last place people wanted to be on a Friday night.”

“And here we are,” the girl shakes her head, the laugh a little bitter (Lena notices, recognises it). “I’m guessing you’re the one who got the research grant.”

Lena lets a slight smile cross her face, “And what makes you think that?”

“Because there’s no way someone as pretty as you would be stuck here on a Friday otherwise.” Lena sees the words sink in on the girl’s face, the realisation of what she’s said, cheeks turning beet red and hands flying up to wave it away. “I just, I mean - um.”

“I’m flattered,” she waves a hand, dismissing it, feels the back of her neck bloom pink. She clears her throat, holds out a hand. “Lena Luthor. And you’re right, I am the one conducting research here.”

The girl takes her hand, Lena tries not to focus - fails.

(Her hand is soft, impossibly hot - Lena tries to drag away but feels like a magnet.)

“I’m embarrassed,” she says, and Lena feels her chest grow warm. “Kara Danvers.”

 

* * *

_ Jeremiah holds her hand in his, longways, thumb over her thumb. It’s weird, she doesn’t think Jeremiah is  _ actually _ holding her hand, that this is something different, because he moves it up and down, slow but firm and it doesn’t make sense. _

_ “This is how humans greet formally,” he tells her, stills their hands to make sure she’s watching before doing it again. “It’s called a handshake.” _

_ “Hand-shake,” she repeats, jagged. She’s only been here, with the Danvers, for a few days, Kal (Clark?) having hugged her into his side as she sobbed, begged for him to take her instead, that he’s all that’s left of  _ home.

_ But Kal told her the Danvers were good people, people who could help, who can help her fit in - be human. _

_ Kara isn’t human, though, feels the lie sear through her until Jeremiah is grunting and she pulls away, sharp and quick. _

_ “Sorry!” She squeaks, head down. _

_ (It’s the first word she learned, the one she uses most.) _

_ “Don’t be, Kara, it’s okay,” Jeremiah holds up his hand, red around the knuckles but together, whole,  _ okay. _ “Let’s try again. Remember, gentle, and to tell them your name.” _

_ He holds out his hand and she takes it, chaste, she moves their hands up and down three times. _

_ “I’m Kara,” she says, feels the ‘Zor-El’ die in her throat, coughs to clear it. “Kara Danvers.” _

_ The lump stays in her throat, Kara feels it well like a boulder, until she can’t swallow it and she’s crying. _

_ Jeremiah pulls her in for a hug, smooths down her hair. _

_ “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he pulls away, long enough to bob down, be face to face. “It’ll take time, sweetie, you’re okay. Remember what you told me?” _

_ She nods, buries her face into his jacket. It’s nothing like home, like Krypton, but Jeremiah is a scientist, and the burn of chemicals in her nose is almost the same as her father’s lab coat. _

_ “Stronger together.” _

_ She feels Jeremiah nod against the top of her head, drop a kiss to her hair. She sinks further into him, the press of glasses against her face nothing compared to the swell of affection in her chest. _

_ “And we’re together. You and me, Alex and Eliza,” his hand stills against her hair, and she hears his heart pick up for a second. “And, even with what’s happened - your parents, your family, they’re always with you, Kara - Krypton is.” _

_ She hugs Jeremiah tight enough to make him wheeze, but he lets her, and she’s grateful. _

 

* * *

Lena comes upon the fact, very quickly and with a twinge in her heart, that the girl is here  _ every _ night. She also comes upon the girl’s profession, this time with brisk questions at the computer engineering professor (Schnitt? Schott? Either way, he had stumbled on his words, bubbled and quiet before blurting out, “ _ T.A _ ”).

He’d also mentioned that she’s there from the end of her workday, that sometimes she forgets food and he’ll order Chinese for her, that he won't sit with her but she will thank him - and, oh, Lena can imagine it, with kind eyes drenched in a sad sparkle, a storm in her chest and shake in her hands but she’s  _ steady _ because she  _ has _ to be.

So, Lena thinks she may as well make the most of it, that she won’t ask Kara exactly why or  _ what _ she’s looking at, that she’ll offer Kara the take out she’s bought for the two of them (really, Lena knew she’d skip dinner if she didn’t bring some with her - it’s logical), and in return Kara can lend her one of the screens.

Lena can do her research with two rolls of sushi by her side, and Kara can look forlornly at what Lena won’t press her about.

And it will be simple, an arrangement. Lena will not pry, and Kara will be fed at the very least, and Lena  _ will not _ form any sort of sympathy or understanding or attachment to her, will not let herself fall down the rabbit hole of questions and attraction.

 

//

 

Except nothing is simple, because she’s a Luthor, because she has a knack for finding trouble when she doesn’t even go looking for it.

( _ Trouble,  _ this time, meaning an already inconvenient, distracting crush, only fueled further by the fact that Kara’s welcoming smile could light up an entire goddamn planetarium.)

Lena doesn’t trip on her way in this time, at least, takes her heels off and walks to Kara, plastic bag in hand.

“You didn’t have to,” Kara says, standing to take the bag from Lena’s hands. Lena tries not to notice the length of her legs, the shape of them in her jeans. “I normally just have something big once I get home.”

Lena waves her hand, “It’s no trouble, really. Besides, I was already getting something for myself - and I noticed that you’re here every night and,”

“You noticed that?”

Kara looks at her like an anomaly, something she’s never crossed before, and Lena’s skin crawls before she realises that - oh, it’s not an accusation.

“I,” Lena feels Kara’s fingers against hers, split second, enough for Kara to take the bag and set it down on a bench nearby. Lena stays put, waits for Kara to turn before she follows those few steps. “Yes, I did.”

Kara hands Lena her box first, with a napkin and two vials of soy sauce on top, before rushing to pull to wheely chairs over from the other side.

Lena thanks her, sits on the chair gingerly, waits for it to roll, for her to fall and embarrass herself again but she stays stable. Kara flops down opposite her, spins twice with her head back and Lena can’t help but laugh under her breath.

“I bet you have a few questions, then.” Kara’s cheek is puffed, filled with rice. She swallows, grins with sauce stained teeth, “Thank you, by the way - for the food.”

“No need to thank me,” Lena scoots closer without realising, toes cold against the floor. “And, yes, I do have questions. But,” 

“But?”

Lena shakes her head, picks at her sushi.

“But, I can see that you’re not ready to answer them.” She looks up, sees Kara’s brows crinkle, notices a scar warped by the crease of her skin and somehow finds herself endeared, wanting to know  _ more _ . “I’m a patient woman, Kara, the answers to those questions can wait.”

Kara shifts side to side, eyes glazed with something close to what Lena recognises, something close to what she sees in the mirror after visiting Lex.

“Those questions,” Kara repeats, head snapping up and she’s sunny again, brilliant and bold and Lena would be worried, if only her heart wasn’t already hammering. “So you have others.”

Lena smiles, nods, feels a knick in her chest, somewhere against her ribs.

“How could I not?” 

She feels a piece of nori stuck between her teeth, sees Kara giggle and feels heat creep up the back of her neck - but its not rude, or demeaning, Kara is soft and warm in her laugh and Lena realises she’s  _ teasing _ , Kara thinks this is  _ cute _ .

“I think I have a few myself,” Kara admits, spins halfway, legs open, until her foot lands at the bench, perching her legs up. She turns her head to Lena, fixes her glasses. “You’re pretty intriguing, you know.”

And god, how Lena wants to retort with something witty, something  _ flirty _ \- or even just  _ something _ , because Kara has disarmed her with a cheeky grin and a spinning chair and Lena can’t handle it, the allure of this woman has completely eradicated all sense of her sapphic mastery.

So she says, “you too,” around a bite of sushi, with flushed cheeks that match Kara’s and  _ god damn it _ why did Kara have to be so fucking pretty?

 

* * *

_ Lena’s fingers are wrought, twisted together and trembling. Her bottom lip raw, blood like copper on her tongue, teeth marks etched perfectly into the curve. _

_ She can’t tell Lillian, doesn’t know how to tell her - she’s already not enough, already not a Luthor, an imposter playing pretend in their home, fancy getups and etiquette training don’t count for shit when the Irish accent of her real mother slips through, when she aches for a life that isn’t hers, when her father’s tombstone is classified information and her brother is away at college and Lillian’s words sting harder than her slaps. _

_ So she tries to tell Lex, sits him down at her desk, across from her bed. She thinks, maybe, she could tell him here, surrounded by their childhood, memories of Lex murmuring things he’d learned in chemistry or biology as thunder raged and she shook, of Lex teaching her how to throw a punch before she started high school, of illegally streaming movies hidden in a pillow fort of their making. _

_ “It can’t be that bad, Lee,” he says, leans forward to rests his elbows on his knees. “You’re still my sister, promise.” _

_ She takes a shaky breath, tries to feel the difference between it and the way her lungs collapsed when she’d kissed her, a girl in the library, against the stacks, awash in the moonlight while a pep rally kept everyone astray. _

_ Its ghosting on her, haunted by her lips and her words and her hands and fuck - it didn’t feel that way with boys, no matter how good they were, no matter how nice or kind or understanding they were, no one wretched Lena’s heart out of her chest quite like a pretty girl pressed up against her, surrounded by perfume and the string of noises Lena had her make. _

_ “I,” she starts, shakes her head, feels her nails bite into her palms. “I feel - feel alien.” _

_ Lex laughs at first, but catches himself when he sees the tears well up in her eyes. _

_ “Hey, no,” he’s slow, takes cautious steps, waits for Lena to open back up before he closes in. “You’re no alien, Lee, okay. You’re okay.” _

_ She crumbles, then, smushes her head into his chest, feels him freeze up before wrapping an arm around her. _

_ “It's not okay,” her voice cracks, and she shakes her head again. “This isn’t - it wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. Not at all.” _

_ “What wasn’t supposed to?” _

_ She presses herself hard against him, forces herself to remember every detail just in case, his hard chest and soft stomach, the mix of solder and chemicals and body wash. _

_ “I messed up,” she pulls away, wipes at her eyes. “I fucked up.” _

_ Lex cocks his head, and Lena can see that he’s  _ trying _ , that she’s giving him absolutely nothing to work with and he just wants to help, to make his sister feel better. And that somehow makes it worse, when she bites her lip again, when the lump in her throat gets hard to breathe around. _

_ “What happened?” _

_ She swallows the lump down, feels it hit the bottom of her stomach like dread, feels her eyes start to sting again. _

_ “A girl kissed me,” she says, breathes, furrows her brow and tries again. “I kissed her, too. It was, like, it was a mutual thing. The kiss. We kissed a lot.” _

_ Lex stays still, and Lena wishes he wouldn’t, that he would pounce and hug her, that he would bolt from the room to out her to Lillian - anything but just  _ sitting _. _

_ “So, you’re gay?” _

_ “I don’t know,” she says, because she doesn’t. It’s new and scary and shiny and suddenly girls are thirty times more pretty now that she’s kissed one, felt curves underneath her hands, whispered nothings against another’s neck. “Maybe. Yes?” _

_ “Okay,” and then Lex is ruffling her hair, holding her by the cheek and smiling at her. “Doesn’t make you an alien, Lee. Nowhere near as bad as that, kid.” _

_ He pinches her cheek, laughs when she shoves him back. _

_ “Just don’t tell Mom, okay?” _

_ Lex lies back on the bed, tugs Lena with him. Their arms brush, and he turns to face her, smile devilish. _

_ “As long as you don’t ever get a hotter girlfriend than me, your secret is safe.” _

_ She pokes him where he’s most ticklish, so much that he rolls off the bed and lands with a thud, and Lena laughs hard enough for her stomach to ache in the best way. _

 

* * *

Kara can’t help but feel sick when she looks at Krypton (what’s left of it). It’s sick, it’s  _ dying _ again, and yet each and every time she finds a hunk of it, of it orbiting anything remotely close to a dwarf star, she feels it kickstart her pulse, quicken her heart.

Only amplified with Lena sitting across from her, Kara starts to think it's all a bit much. She’s not good with compartmentalising, even before Earth. Only ever having known the brashness of her parents’ decisions, Kara has learned to be cautious, weary.

Her heart still dives without a beat for breath, her brain always having to catch up, to scramble for an excuse, a response, a reason.

She looks at Lena, bottom lip between her teeth. Kara’s eyes flit between what’s left of her home and the woman in front of her,  _ aches _ to talk, to fill the silence with something that doesn’t hurt her chest this way.

“Question,” she says, and Lena raises a brow, juts her jaw. This is their routine now, an announcement before the query, before the answer. “What was it like, to be a kid?”

She hears Lena’s heart, the way it shifts, speeds up. But Lena doesn’t move, barely a fraction, just the telltale twitch in the clench of her jaw.

Kara pretends she notices it offhandedly.

“You mean with a brother who damned himself?”

Her brain catches up, stomach dropping to her knees. Regret surges to her throat, clumps there until she remembers how to speak.

“No, I,” she sighs, lets herself trail off while Lena stares at her, burns a hole through the cotton of her collar. “You - he didn’t,”

Except that he  _ did _ , Lex Luthor burned himself to the ground, a villian rising from the ashes. He hurt  _ Kal _ , he threatened her family, ruined his own. Lex Luthor damned himself, and Kara has sympathy, but no empathy.

But Lena looks at Kara with a crease in her brow, the kind that begs for differentials, that begs to see that she is not her brother, she is a Luthor in name but not in blood or action and Kara feels her heart pound with the question of it.

“I mean growing up on Earth.”

Kara sees Lena laugh, watches her top lip lose its bow and her features ease and its nice, Lena is  _ gorgeous _ and it's not until Lena’s laugh turns to a sly smirk that Kara realises what she’s said.

“I assume it was as human as yours, Kara.”

Kara feels her neck flush, scrambles for words as she clears her throat, wrings her hands out.

“Yep, probably. Of course. Duh.”

 

* * *

_ Kara finds Alex sitting outside the Principal’s Office, hunched over with her elbows on her knees, hands folded with fingers between fingers. Kara hears the rhythmic tapping of her foot and - oh, okay, so Alex is the one in trouble. _

_ A boy from Kara’s English class walks out, face crumpled (fake tears, she knows - she saw the real ones before) and a hand holding an ice pack to his eye. _

_ “Your turn, Miss Danvers.” _

_ Alex stands, turns with her hands on her hips as she forces eye contact with the boy. Out of the Principal’s sight, he grins at Alex with a missing tooth. _

_ Kara sees Alex lurch forward in the slightest, quick and harsh and the boy flinches. She holds in her laugh, waits for Alex to look at her. _

_ She does, just before she goes in, gives her a cool, calm smile that tells her it was for her, that “he was being a shithead, Kara,” that the purple dusting her knuckles and the three detentions she gets are worth it. Because they’re sisters, because Alex protects Kara and Kara takes Alex flying, because “sisters hit assholes for each other, just not the alien sister with super strength”. _

_ Because Alex walks out with her head hung, a muttered promise of not letting it happen again - gone the very second the door shuts, and Alex perks up, takes Kara by the arm and Kara lets herself be walked down the hall, lets Alex tell her how nasty that boy was and how much he deserved it, how she wishes she’d got just one more hit in to prove a point. _

_ Jeremiah is waiting for them in the car park, doesn’t mention the way half the kids are staring at Alex like she’d committed manslaughter, the way they whisper about Kara. _

_ They slide into the back seat, and Jeremiah looks at them through the rear view mirror. _

_ “Alex,” he starts, but it’s not a warning, it’s not tired or ashamed. Maybe it borders pride, love, something that Kara is still trying to recognise in Jeremiah’s voice, because it only comes out when Alex protects her. _

_ “He called her a retard, Dad,” Alex says, and Kara still isn’t quite sure what the word means, but it makes her fidget with her bracelet, takes the beads into her fingers but Alex grabs her hand before she can break any, threads their fingers together. _

_ “Well then,” Jeremiah sits a little higher in his seat, a little firmer - the same way Alex does when she’s mad. “I hope you got him good.” _

_ Alex shows off her free hand, the colours across her knuckles, the slight cut on the third one. Good is an understatement, Kara could hear his tooth crack from her Maths class. _

_ She can feel the question caught up in her chest, though, a whirlwind of something like anger and confusion - because he’s not the first to say it, not at all, kids are mean and Eliza had taught her that they learn this rude behaviour off each other but- _

_ “You’re Kara,” Alex says, knocks their shoulders together before she’s yanked back by the seat belt. “Zor-El or Danvers. You’re Kara, okay?” _

_ She nods, knows what Alex means, rubs her thumb over Alex’s knuckles, sees her wince but then she’s smiling and Jeremiah turns the radio up enough that it blocks out the rest of the world for a minute and - yeah, she’s Kara. _

 

* * *

She feels the watch face crack under her fingers when Lena asks the question, shattered glass nothing knew to her but she knows Lena’s seen it - that she just broke glass with her  _ thumb _ , that she didn’t yelp, that she’s not even cut or  _ bleeding _ .

The proverbial cat is out of the bag, and Kara wants to cram it back in - to stow it away in the depth of the bag, to tie the bag up and launch it into the solar system (but that would give her away, too).

So she sits, waits for the time to pass, takes her watch off with a sigh and places it on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” is all she says, all she  _ can _ say. Because she should have told Lena sooner, should have trusted her, they’ve known each other a month and Kara is so at ease that they’re  _ in Kara’s living room _ , so at ease that Kara’s stomach flips each time Lena so much as looks at her, that when Lena leans back into her favourite armchair she can imagine her living here.

“Don’t be,” Lena answers quickly, earnestly. “I shouldn’t have asked, I knew it was too soon.”

Lena goes to stand, but Kara stops her, leaps across the furniture with super speed but human touch, a hand on Lena’s thigh to settle her back into the chair.

“No, no,” Lena eases back down, and Kara takes her hand away when Lena gawks at it with flushed cheeks. “Sorry, um. I can - I can talk about it, it just. It’s complicated.”

Lena’s face twists, something like guilt and intrigue and Kara doesn’t realise she’s kneeling before Lena until she backs up to sit cross legged, looking up at Lena and praying that she won’t be hurt, that she won’t  _ leave _ .

“Please don’t feel obligated to share this with me,” Lena leans forward, a fraction, enough to make Kara’s head spin with her perfume. “Really, the answer can wait.”

Kara sighs, feels something settle in her chest. Admiration, maybe. Respect and gratitude, definitely.

“I honestly don’t think it can,” Kara shakes her head, pinches her nose as she takes off her glasses. She folds them in her lap, and she sees Lena recognise something, maybe the crinkle in her brows, maybe the blue of her eyes and the way they match her brother’s nemesis. “Ask me again, please.”

Lena hesitates, and Kara hears her heart speed up, skip a beat in her chest.

“What you look at in the observatory,” Lena bites her lip, squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s your home planet, isn’t it?”

Kara nods, realises Lena’s eyes are still shut so she waits, “yes.”

“And it’s a dead planet, isn’t it?”

Her eyes are open this time, and Kara nods again, her throat too tight to answer.

Lena nods with her, and Kara can see her piecing it all together - the strength, the speed she shrugged off as reflexes, (Kara’s deep sense of responsibility, the way she needs to feel useful, why family means so  _ much _ ).

“A glowing green planet, dead to the galaxy but still finding orbit,” Lena murmurs, and Kara knows Lena is avoiding the word, is avoiding  _ Krypton _ at all costs, and she lets her. “Kara, I,”

And Kara isn’t sure what happens,  _ why _ it happens, but she surges forward - brackets Lena with her arms, crashes into her with her head buried into Lena’s chest and she  _ cries _ .

Lena is still, so still that Kara thinks she broke her, but then arms are around her shoulders and a kiss is dropped to the top of her head and she’s not being shushed or quieted, Lena is holding her with one hand, the other coaxing up into her hair, fingers threading through her curls and Kara doesn’t know why it feels so much like home.

“I want it back,” she says, whispers it into the fabric of Lena’s sweater. “I miss it so much, I miss them all so much.”

Lena holds Kara like she’d break, like she’s not the Kryptonian they both know her to be, that she is fragile and frayed at all edges.

“I want to help,” Lena tells her, whispers it against her crown. “I can help.”

Kara startles then, leans back. Lena’s hand is still in her hair, and Kara is floored by the intimacy they’ve found themselves in, tries to pull away but stuck, Lena’s orbit is too strong, the gravity between them heavy with silence and hope.

“How?”

Lena smiles, kind and a little sad, shrugs her shoulders with the answer of, “science.”

Somehow, it holds more promise than the singular word. That Lena is going to try, until she’s wrecked, until they’re both whole again.

 

* * *

_ Lena thought kissing girls was already great, that girls were soft and beautiful and everyone was still so nervous under her palms, so excited for this new part of them. But, a girl that Lena liked? Had feelings for? It takes the cake. _

_ Her heart is hammering, she can feel every nerve in her body shoot and race towards her brain and back down to her fingers, every neuron release, every synapse fire. Lena Luthor likes a girl and the girl likes her, too - Lena Luthor has a girl, in her room,  _ kissing _ her. _

_ She breaks away for air, to stare at her. She’s gorgeous, breathless, lips bright red and there’s a purple smudge starting to rise on her neck and Lena wants to feel a little embarrassed but all that floods in her chest is pride and the closest to giddiness she’s ever had. _

_ “Wow,” she says, and then it’s  _ definitely _ pride, because Lena has kissed a girl wordless, speechless, reduced her to syllables of praise. _

_ Lena’s smile meets hers halfway, a giggle rising in her throat when their teeth clack together before they kiss again, better this time, practiced. Lena eases into it, feels her heart stutter, the girl’s pulse fluttering against her palm as she holds her by the jaw. _

_ A hand is hesitant on her thigh, fingers clenching but not moving against her skin. Lena reaches down, leans back slightly, enough to make sure the girl sees her nod as she raises their hands higher. It slips under her skirt, thumb hard against the top of her thigh as the girl kisses her again, crashes into her with vigour. _

_ Lena lets out the faintest moan the same time her door is opened. _

_ She rushes back as if she’d been burned, doesn’t dare meet Lillian’s eyes. There’s books strewn around them, stray pencils and sheets of paper - they  _ had _ been doing work at some point, Lena was sure of it.  _

_ But Lillian knows that’s not the case now, and Lena isn’t going to try and convince her otherwise, not while there’s still a hand slightly under her uniform skirt. She could lie, she could maybe even get away with saying its placement is one of comfort - but she is too flushed and the marks on the girl’s neck are bloomed far beyond any lies she could tell. _

_ “Leave,” Lillian spits, and the girl ducks her head. “Now.” _

_ Lena puts a hand on hers, shakes her head when she looks at their work. _

_ “I’ll bring it tomorrow, it’s fine.” She says, but the girl sees the utter fear in her eyes and stays put. “It’s fine, go.” _

_ The girl is at the door, turning back to look at Lena. It hits her then, how much she cares for her, because this girl is looking at her the same way, and then she’s not - because she’s standing ramrod, staring Lillian down, jaw set and fists clenched. _

_ “I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” _

_ And if it weren’t for the ice cold dread running through her veins, Lena thinks she may have fallen in love. _

_ Lillian shuts the door behind the girl, a controlled slam, enough to make Lena flinch. _

_ “What do you think you’re doing?” She asks, paces forward. Lena knows better than to answer. “Is this what you do, now? Go around, fucking the others girls, try to make yourself just that extra bit more worthless?” _

_ She sits higher, sets her shoulders. Papers crumple around her, she tries not to join them under Lillian’s withering stare. _

_ “I am not worthless,” she says, makes sure her voice doesn’t crack. “And, for the record, I haven’t ‘fucked’ anyone yet, Mother.” _

_ “But you were going to, weren’t you?” She stops just before Lena’s bed, folds her hands in front of her. “Must you really try to stand out that much, Lena? I understand Lionel’s death has been tough on all of us, but acting out to get my attention-” _

_ “Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” Lena seethes, dread replaced with white-hot rage. “Dad has nothing to do with this. And if you think this,  _ who I am _ , has anything to do with getting your attention, you are sorely mistaken.” _

_ “You think there is another explanation?” Lillian tuts, a breathless sigh of a laugh leaving her as she shakes her head. “You are a Luthor, Lena. We are not born like this. You come from a line of brilliant minds, to think that any of them were ill,” _

_ “Ill,” she repeats, feels the anchor of the word sink to her stomach. “I’m ill to you, am I? That I can’t be a genius, that I can’t be as good as Lex or Dad or any other Luthor, because I’m a lesbian.” _

_ “This isn’t who you were brought up to be, Lena.” _

_ Lena shakes her head, feels her nails dig into her palms. _

_ “Dad brought me up to look at things logically, scientifically,” she stands from her bed, pens dropping to the ground as she looks at Lillian. “We all share the same DNA, Mother, did you know that? The double helix is shared by all living life forms: aliens, animals, humans -  _ all  _ humans. So, no, I guess you’re right. I  _ wasn’t _ brought up to be gay, but you know what? Dad taught me that I can’t change my DNA, that no one can, and that it’s different but it’s not  _ worse _.” _

_ She watches Lillian’s jaw clench - feels the sting in her cheek before the redness of Lillian’s palm, hand raised in the air. _

_ “You,” Lillian’s breath shakes, and Lena winces, gets ready for more. “You liar.” _

_ She turns on her heel then, storms until she reaches the door. She glowers at Lena as she opens it, venom on her tongue. _

_ “If you aren’t going to start acting like a Luthor, I suggest you pack your bags now,” she says, shakes her head to look at the ground. “We do not allow anything to poison this family.” _

_ The door shuts, clicked with poise and Lena can’t even find it in herself to cry. She knew this was coming, it was bound to happen - it’s her own fault for being so reckless and getting caught in the first place. _

_ She sits against her door, head between propped knees. She stays there until her neck hurts, until when she opens her eyes again it's dark and moonlight has filled her room. _

_ She hears a scrap of paper slide beneath her door just before the closing of Lex’s, hears his study mixtape play loud enough to let her cry if she needs to. She picks it up, unfolds it and lets herself be charmed by his looped cursive before reading. _

‘You’re valid.

(P.S - she’s hot! Get it, Lee.)’

_ She laughs before she cries. _

 

* * *

Kara has her legs draped across Lena’s lap, Lena’s fingers flitting over the cursor, zooming in and out on parts of Krypton. Kara hasn’t told her yet (she’s pretty sure Lena knows, anyway), and the guilt gnaws at the seams of her, drags her closer to the truth each time she sees Lena because it’s so  _ hard _ to want to give her everything  _ but _ Krypton.

“I lied, you know,” Lena says, offhandedly, like they’re just talking about the weather. “When you asked me about growing up.”

Kara stops absently wiggling her toes, looks up from her markings.

“It wasn’t human?”

Lena humours her, gives her a light chuckle and flicks at her shin.

“Quite human,” she pauses, scrunches her face together before adding. “Super human.”

Kara nudges at her with the heel of her foot, Lena’s smile dropping just the slightest, enough for Kara to know where they’re headed.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“The truth,” Lena shrugs, swivels so she’s not facing the screen anymore. “That my mother never really loved me, not enough. And Lex, loved me so much - as much as you love your own sister. But, he hated Superman more, doted on his mission so much that he forgot to love me along the way.”

Kara curls her legs, draws herself closer. Lena’s shoulders drop, her arms deadweight as she lowers them from the cursor.

“I’m sure Lex still loves you,” she says, says it firmly because it’s the only thing keeping her from crying out in the night, that her parents still love her even if they sent her away, maybe its like that for Lena too.

“Disillusionment is a powerful thing, Kara,” Lena takes a breath, her eyes shine when she looks at Kara. “It makes you think everything that came before wasn’t real, that maybe - I don’t know. Even if they loved me, clearly not enough. Perhaps that’s just how it is.”

“No,” Kara drags herself until her elbows bump Lena’s, “you don't get to say that. You don’t understand how brilliant you are, Lena. Your mother, Lex, they wasted an opportunity. You, Lena Luthor, are easy to love.”

Lena’s jaw is slack, her eyes wide. Kara just  _ looks _ at her, waits for - well, she isn’t sure what, she just waits. Lena’s tongue pokes out, wets her lips before she closes her mouth, sets her jaw. She nods, sharp and understanding, but her eyes are wet and Kara just wishes Lena would let herself cry.

(Maybe then it wouldn’t feel so selfish, wanting to hold her so badly that it aches.)

“Besides, I,” she clears her throat, fingers coming up to her necklace, tracing the delicate engravings on the pendant. “I know what it feels like - disillusionment, I mean.”

“But your family, they,” Lena sounds breathless, choked up and Kara hates it, the way that Lena cares so much - that  _ Kara _ cares so much. “They love you so much. Your sister brings things in for you, and she told me about your adoptive mother and the way she cooks big batches of food for you to freeze.”

“Alex and Eliza are great,” she squints down at her lap, sees that at some point (whether of her or Lena’s doing) their fingers had crossed, her hand atop Lena’s. “It’s my cousin. He - we were sent to Earth, before our planet - anyway. He got here before me, grew up without me. I was meant to protect him, to  _ guide _ him. That was what my parents told me.”

Kara knows Lena is watching her, eyes flitting from the screen to her and Kara wants to just tell her. To tell her the stories she grew up with, of Rao and his soldiers, of their science, of the Matrix, of the way Astra’s hair looked in the moonlight and the way Kal would gurgle and giggle whenever he saw her.

But this is Earth, not Krypton. Krypton is not what’s on the screen, no, Krypton was alive and beautiful and it was Kara’s  _ home _ . 

“He doesn’t know of our culture, of Kr - of our home’s importance, how advanced it was. We knew who we were compatible with, you know? Our technology was so well thought out, so intricate that it  _ knew _ who we were destined to be with, can you imagine something like that on Earth? Instead of just wandering around, of falling in love with people you can’t have or aren’t meant to have?”

Lena lets out a hum, low and thoughtful. Shakes her head because no, of course she can’t imagine that, Earth is bound to its philosophies, its own notion of love. It isn’t Krypton.

“And Kal, he - he wasn’t a baby when I finally got here,” she drops the pendant back to her chest, huffs. “I taught him our language but he taught me Earth’s, he was in his twenties, he couldn’t raise the girl who was meant to raise him. He dropped me at the Danvers, told me they’d take care of me, that they’d help me be human but - but he doesn't  _ get it _ .”

Lena nods, “Because you’re not human.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” she doesn’t know why it’s worked her up like this, why Kal and Lena and family and home have all unravelled her. It sits in her throat until it throws itself out. “I’m an alien, I wasn’t born here, I wasn’t  _ raised _ here. I’m proud of where I’m from, and I can understand hiding it to be able to work or make sure you don’t break people, but. Kal, he - he wears our family crest and he didn’t know what it meant until he was nearly  _ thirty _ , Lena. He’s so human, he shares the mannerisms of them and the speech patterns and, and he just  _ left me _ with the Danvers.”

She doesn’t realise she’s shaking until Lena closes the gap, stops short to give Kara time but she doesn't protest, pulls Lena in the rest of the way and burrows into the hollow of Lena’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Lena whispers, pulls her back, holds her face in her hands so softly that Kara melts.

“It was just so,” she shudders, hiccoughs.

“Lonely?” Lena asks, and Kara nods but doesn’t ask about the complete understanding in Lena’s eyes, in the way her brows crease and the way Lena holds her just a little tighter, a little more desperately.

 

* * *

_ Lena sits, feels the leather of the book slide from underneath her palm. The wood creaks against her thighs, and she tries to focus on that instead of her heartbeat. _

_ She looks up because she has to, because if she doesn’t she looks dishonest, she looks culpable. She looks as bad as her brother. _

_ “Miss Luthor,” she snaps her head towards the Prosecutor, pays more attention to the buttons of his suit before forcing herself to make eye contact. “I assume you know why you’re here.” _

_ She nods, “Yes.” _

_ He takes a step towards her, the heel of his dress shoe clicks. “And that is?” _

_ “To testify,” her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, she swallows. “In the case of my brother, Lex, and,” _

_ He whirls on her, raises a brow. “And?” _

_ Lena takes a breath, feels it sit like lead between her ribs. _

_ “And the murder of several aliens, alongside the attempted murder of Superman.” _

_ She remembers seeing it on the news, locked away in her room, watching it stream from her desktop computer. Lex was - he rampaged. Lena’s heart had been in her throat the whole time, a part of her cracking each time Lex Luthor did not look like her brother, each time he detonated another bomb, launched another attack, cocked another gun. _

_ It was not until Superman was pleading, begging, kneeling - begging that he spare the others, that Lex take him, that Lex  _ knew  _ better, that  _ he knew Lex _. _

_ Lena thought she had, too. _

_ “What was Lex like growing up?” _

_ “He was my brother,” she answers automatically, as if there were another answer, as if he had been filled with this murderous venom since youth. “We played chess and he burned grilled cheese, but he drove me in the middle of the night when I needed to think, and he cared like no other.” _

_ “So, what you mean is, Lex was not always a murderer?” _

_ She shakes her head. _

_ She doesnt look up at Lex, can feel his eyes on her, but its not the way they used to. This doesn’t feel like Lex, its not protective or kind - this is cold, this is not the Lex she knew. _

_ When did she stop knowing him? _

_ “Were there anti-alien views in your household, Miss Luthor?” _

_ Lena kneads her thumbs together, “Yes, my mother held the view of human superiority highly.” _

_ “And your father?” _

_ “Acknowledged that aliens were different, but deserved respect and the chance to live.” _

_ He smiles, like the pieces had fallen together for the jury already (as if they hadn’t before the trial even began). _

_ “Your father died before you left for university, though, didn’t he?” _

_ And he may as well have opened up a cavern in Lena, the hole she’s sticky taped back together tears apart, and she feels her eyes well before she can stop them. _

_ “Yes,” the breath she takes is shaky at best, but she tries to not let her voice waver. “Lex had just graduated.” _

_ “So, naturally, Lex had taken over the company.” _

_ “With my mother’s assistance, yes.” _

_ “Hm, interesting,” he pretends to think on it, Lena can see he’s won, that it’s game over and she hadn’t even said a word against Lex. Hadn’t gotten to defend the man she once cherished (still, painfully, cherishes). “LuthorCorp’s technology changed after your father’s death, did it not? More weapons, more ‘protective’ equipment - less research into how to grow together with the aliens, more how to separate ourselves from them.” _

_ She doesn’t mean to nod. _

_ “But, Lex, he,” she jumps in on herself, stops leading herself into his questions. She fidgets in her seat, makes herself sit straighter, poised. Unfazed. “My brother, he - this isn’t my brother. Lex isn’t  _ Lex _ anymore.” _

_ She remembers the rock in Lex’s hand, the way he’d thrusted it against Superman’s chest, slashed the crest until Superman laid bare for the human world to see. A man of steel, reduced to the very thing he was not - human. _

_ “You’re saying he went mad, then? That he just lost his head?” _

_ “I don’t know,” she admits. “I just know that my Lex wouldn’t try to kill a man that saves innocent people.” _

_ “Ah,” he clicks his tongue, probably tasting victory while Lena only tastes bile and betrayal. “But he  _ would _ kill aliens.” _

_ Lena thinks of all the times Lex had beaten the vulnerable ones, that Lillian would place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze every time he let out a slur, the way she’d beam at him with pride when he would tell her of an alien who had quit their school. _

_ Lena doesn’t respond, just stares at her hands, feels Lex burn a hole through her, next to the one for Lionel. _

_ And that’s enough testimony for anyone. _

 

* * *

They’re in Kara’s apartment when Lena connects nearly all the dots. She’s dicing tomatoes - no,  _ should be _ dicing tomatoes; eyes on Kara, on the way her forearm flexes each time she stirs the pasta she already knows will be disastrous.

“You know, maybe you shouldn’t have made it from scratch.”

Kara falls silent, huffs before turning to face her. Cheeks red, she bows her head, looking up at Lena through glasses Lena knows she doesn’t even need.

“I wanted to impress you.”

Lena would laugh if she wasn’t so busy dropping the knife - well, not  _ dropping _ . 

Cutting, she cuts through her thumb, hissing at the pain and Kara is at her side in less than a second, firm hands cradling hers, brows creased and Lena just  _ stares _ because Kara must be so used to not seeing blood, to not bleeding.

Kara gives her a look, one she wants to call stern but can’t because there’s something soft there, in the way that Kara gnaws her bottom lip before walking towards the bathroom, Lena pulled with her, feeling the way Kara’s hands shake just slightly.

Kara sits her down on the edge of the bathtub, much smaller than her own (everything is much smaller, she notes, and yet somehow more homely). There’s a knick in the side of the tub, by the hand Kara isn't holding, and Lena focuses all her attention on that because Kara’s let go of her, is rummaging through the medicine cabinet behind her mirror.

She tries not to grunt when Kara starts cleaning the cut, clenches her jaw and looks up at Kara, sees a terse crease of flour on her forehead, denting the scar just before her brow.

“How did you get that?” She asks, anything to make Kara stop looking at her like  _ that _ , anything to stop herself from looking at her the same way.

“Get what?” Kara isn’t really paying attention, eyes so intent on Lena’s thumb that Lena has to reach up, brush the scar with her free thumb, watches Kara’s lips part as her hand drags down the rest of her face. “Oh, that.”

“That,” Lena doesn’t feel Kara put the bandaid on, only feels the warmth of Kara slide away as she closes the cabinet, leans against the sink.

“I got it before Earth,” she adjusts her glasses, folds her arms. “Where I came from, I could still get injured.”

Lena adjusts, moves backward to lean against where the tub and wall meet. “Ah, so only superpowered here?”

Kara nods, “My sun, it was different than Earth’s. It wasn’t made up of the same - Rao, I don’t know the word for it here.”

“It’s okay,” she says, reaches over to brush Kara’s arm. Kara stills, rigid, relaxes after a breath and Lena sees the very edge of Kara’s ears flush.

“I was in the pod, when it happened.” Kara uncrosses her arms, wrings her fingers together. “I was looking back at my city, my - my  _ home _ .”

Kara’s voice cracks, around the edges of the noun and it sounds so foreign on her tongue, like Kara doesn’t believe it, that she has no home because it was destroyed, because it had to be redefined. 

(Because it didn't exist to Kara, not in this world.)

 

* * *

_ Kara’s fingers hum, she can feel a strain starting, feels the way her biceps begin to ache. The smell of oil is thick in Kara’s nose, the clink of metal sharp in her ear. Her arms shake, senses overloading and she closes her eyes, concentrates on holding the car up. _

_ Alex is standing a few feet away from her, hands on her hips as she strides over to her. They’re close now, sisters - proper sisters - and Kara’s chest is warm and she lets out a breath when Alex stands next to her, braces herself and puts her hands underneath the front of the car. _

_ “You know you’re barely lifting these three tonnes, right?” Kara says, crinkles her nose when Alex pokes her tongue out. _

_ “Kept you distracted long enough for Dad to finish, though, didn’t it?” _

_ Kara furrows her brow, gapes when she hears Jeremiah chuckling. He’s still on the ground, lying on Alex’s skateboard, wrench in hand. There’s oil on his face, smudged across his cheek and Kara shakes her head when Alex joins in on his laughter. _

_ Jeremiah stands and goes towards his workbench to find a cloth, Kara dropping the car and turning back to find Alex’s smug smile. _

_ “You’re the worst,” she tells her, straightens up and puts her hands on her hips. _

_ Alex throws an arm around her shoulders, drags her towards the door that leads into the house. _

_ “We both know that’s a lie.” _

_ Alex pulls her closer, sides together, and Kara doesn’t move her hands, keeps them firm until Alex moves away once they reach the bottom of the stairs, head cocked. _

_ Before Alex can ask, Eliza emerges from the living room, her playful, dimpled smile aimed at Kara. _

_ “Why the chicken wings?” She asks, shoots a look towards Alex, who holds her hands up in surrender. “Alex didn’t tell you this was an Earth custom, did she?” _

_ “No,” Kara says, deflates. She launches herself up the stairs, runs so fast she’s not sure whether she sped or flew up. _

_ She closes her bedroom door, sits on her bed with her knees to her chest, can already hear Alex’s heavy, human steps rushing up. _

_ At least Alex knocks before she comes in (doesn’t listen to Kara’s “go away”, though). _

_ “Okay, so,” Alex leans against the door once she shuts it, crosses her arms and waits for Kara to look up at her. “I know Kryptonians are a lot smarter than humans, so help me out here with what just happened.” _

_ Kara sighs, “It’s nothing, Alex.” _

_ Alex takes tentative steps, halts when she sees Kara’s bottom lip wobble. _

_ “Kara, hey,” she rushes to her, stops short and waits for Kara to nod before carding fingers through blonde locks. “Whatever it is, we missed it. I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I can try to help fix it if you do.” _

_ “It’s stupid,” Kara admits, feels her throat tighten and her eyes heat up. “ _ I’m _ stupid.” _

_ “No, you’re not,” Alex leans closer, stifles a laugh as she continues, “You’re smarter at fourteen than my parents are at forty, Kara, and they’re considered geniuses here.” _

_ “Fair point,” she shifts, laughs wetly into Alex’s shoulder. “I just,” _

_ The next part is muffled in the cotton of Alex’s sweatshirt, and Kara looks up at her when she’s finished as if she’d heard, understood. _

_ “Try again, not all of us have super hearing.” _

_ Kara grumbles, scrunches her face and closes her eyes as her ears start to go red. _

_ “I wanted to look as strong as you, okay?” _

_ Alex fumbles, nearly coughs. “What?” _

_ “You always have your hands on your hips - especially when you’re about to yell at someone or beat up someone in my honour, even though I could  _ technically _ throw that person into space.” _

_ “Kara, I’m - I’m not that strong, you know.” _

_ Kara looks up at her, and Alex can see her eyes flash behind glasses, something unparalleled to what she’s ever seen before - ferocity, devotion. _

_ “I know you’re not Kryptonian, or superpowered,” Kara gnaws her lip, pulls away from Alex to wring her hands out. “But, but you look  _ so _ strong when you do it, like, like I could even hit you and you wouldn’t budge.” _

_ Alex smiles, soft and warm, adjusts Kara’s glasses for her, pushes them up the bridge of her nose. _

_ “Let's never test that theory out.” _

_ Kara snorts, mouth wide with laughter, “Sure, okay.” _

_ Alex pulls Kara closer, her jeans sliding along the comforter until they’re close enough that Alex can feel Kara’s heartbeat.  _

_ “You’re my little sister, Kara, I’m always gonna protect you - even if you don't need it.” _

_ Kara nods against her, “Even if I’m bulletproof.” _

_ “Even then.” _

_ When Alex pulls away, there’s a glint in her eye, one that has Kara giggling as she reaches out to keep their hands clasped together. _

_ “What?” _

_ “You wanna look strong,” Alex’s grin cracks, tongue between her teeth to stop her from laughing. “You literally  _ lifted  _ Dad’s car before because he couldn’t find the jack.” _

_ Kara nudges her, soft enough for a human but hard enough to send Alex back onto the mattress, hollering. _

_ “Shut up, you know what I meant.” _

 

* * *

Kara visits James on her way to the observatory, a week after the incident in the kitchen, taps on the door of his office and hears him yell distantly to come in.

She plants herself in the middle of the room, runs a hand along his desk, up to the photo of him and Clark - James is drunk enough that Kara is surprised the Dean allowed him to put the photo on display. He’s midway through a cheer and Clark is just  _ beaming _ at the camera, or whoever was behind it, eyes crinkling in the corner, wide jaw set in the grin that he and Kara share.

(She has a feeling that Lois is behind the camera, Clark only  _ ever _ uses the family smile for her.)

(She used to use it for James, hidden behind her hand, until James had pulled it away and told her she was beautiful, until Kara thought maybe she could be, with butterflies in the pit of her stomach and she remembers  _ nearly _ hovering when he’d kissed her.)

James rushes out then, from the door behind his desk, by a bookcase filled with his folios.

“Hey,” he says, grins. “Sorry about that, I was just hanging up some prints.”

Kara drags her sleeves down from her forearms, tucks one between thumb and forefinger.

“Back to the dark room phase, huh?”

James nods, shuts the door behind him before walking to lean against the edge of his desk. “Gotta keep the hipster kids happy, y’know. First impressions, and all that.”

“You only have them for a few weeks,” she points out, shakes her head in a laugh.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be T.As, Miss Danvers.”

She feels her neck flush, sheepish as she smiles up at James.

He rounds his desk, holds his hand out to gesture her towards the couch by the window. She feels her stomach lurch as she sits, James opposite, only a cushion between them and Kara admits that it once felt like the world, that any distance from James felt too far, too much.

But things were different now, and a cushion was a cushion, and she’s not entirely sure why her ears are ringing, her hands shaking.

“Is there something you came here to tell me Kara?”

James looks down at her and he cares so much, still, even after everything. After Kara running and telling him she needed time, space, even if she could never find it. James stayed in Metropolis and she  _ told _ him to, that this was what’s best for them. And now he’s back and Kara was worried that everything would come back, that every phantom touch would linger, that she’d see James but only ever really concentrate on his dark eyes or his warm voice.

She’d come here to tell him about Krypton, that while they’d been apart she’d found her home, that she feels a little more grounded. She’d expected all her feelings to follow through with that.

“I found Krypton,” she confesses, leaves out the fact that this won’t change anything between them.

“You found it,” he repeats, lips parted and Kara is almost shocked that she  _ doesn’t _ want to kiss him. “That’s amazing, Kara. But,”

“It’s not alive,” she bows her head. “Not even whole. But, it's there. And, there may be - I might, you know, get closure.”

“How?”

“You know the research being conducted?”

James cocks a brow, “Winn mentioned it, yeah.”

“Well, Lena and I, we’re,” she trails off, her heart against her ribs. “Friends. We’re friends. And she, she thinks she can help - that her research can help.”

“Lena,” his voice is low, thoughtful. Kara thinks maybe he knows,  _ knows _ he knows when his face contorts to something rigid, almost incredulous. “Lena  _ Luthor _ , you mean?”

Kara feels something in her chest, something ravenous and it coils like thorns. “Yes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Kara,” James shakes his head, stands from the couch, leaves Kara sitting there, flustered. “Does she know its Krypton? Does she know that you’re an alien, that you’re Superman’s  _ cousin _ ?”

Kara stays still, feels her hands shake for an entirely different reason. She stares up at James, feels her knuckles crack with how tightly she’s balled her fists.

“She doesn’t know it’s Krypton,” she says, the anger is thick on her tongue, hot in her throat. “She knows I’m an alien.”

“Then it's only a matter of time before she finds out, Kara.” He throws his hands up, leaves them to clasp behind his head as he starts pacing. “I cannot  _ believe _ you. Do you know what you’ve done? You  _ need _ to be more careful, Kara - she could hurt you, she could  _ kill _ you.”

She stands then, with so much vigour that she dents the ground. Her head hurts, the back of her eyes beginning to heat up.

“She won’t hurt me, James, or  _ any _ other alien.”

James laughs, a raw and mean laugh and it slashes through Kara, settles in her gut until it boils her blood.

“Her brother nearly killed Clark, Kara. Your cousin,  _ my best friend _ .”

“I know that, James.”

He steps back from her, head down, arms crossed. “You’re not acting like it.”

Kara feels it then, the moment the ravenous entity turns voracious, the coils snapping -  _ she _ snaps. Her knuckles are white and she has to cross her arms to stop herself from hitting something. 

“She’s  _ not _ Lex.” She swallows, feels something like ferocity in the pit of her stomach, something like awe in her veins. “Lena is kind, and she is brilliant and determined and she doesn’t let fear or prejudice rule her life or her decisions. And, yeah, she  _ is _ a Luthor - but she’s  _ Lena _ and I,”

James looks at her then, through her, to the very core of her and - oh, he can see something she can’t.

(something she won’t.)

“You what, Kara?”

“I,” she stumbles, the rage seeping from her body. Something replaces it, something urgent and white hot and  _ unexplainable _ . “I trust her.”

“You trust her,” James’ eyes seem to say he heard more than what Kara said, that he’d read her and understood entirely why her faith lie here, with Lena. Kara isn’t sure what, isn’t sure how or why. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

James nods, “I trust  _ you _ . So, yeah - okay.”

She takes a step then, slow and waits for James to take the rest. He rounds his arms under her shoulders, leans down so she can rest her chin in the crease of his neck.

James is solid and safe, his heart coming down in her ears and James squeezes her a little tighter just before letting go, and she’s thankful and terrified by what it all means.

 

* * *

Lena omits some things from Kara. Nothing grand, just things she needn’t worry over, things she shouldn’t know yet or ever.

Ever, being her mother. The way she would use harsh words instead of knives to cut through Lena, the way she was too much for their family, and yet not enough for the Luthors. How her name began with ‘L’ but Lex was the only one who made her feel that she belonged, and his being a madman made her question the integrity of it every day.

Yet, being Krypton. That she knows, that she can see how much it means to Kara, that she’s met Clark and the wistful way he’d look into the night sky with her and Lex when he’d visit LuthorCorp. That her and Clark have the same eyes, painfully gorgeous and blue, that their mannerisms are similar and that they both have a single lock of hair that falls between their brows. That glasses are a terrible disguise, and that if Kara was to ever become National City’s hero, she’d need come up with something more clever.

(That she thinks, with dreadful earnesty, that she’d never cared for someone as much as Kara. Had fallen for someone as dangerously as she had with Kara. With no warning bells or whistles, just a practice in freefall, wishing and hoping Kara could - would - catch her.)

She’s not sure which category to put that last part in yet.

 

* * *

[18:07 to: Alex] _ Can we move sister night forward _

[18:07 to: Alex]  _ I need advice _

[18:10 to: Alex] _ Dating advice _

[18:11 from: Alex]  _ I’m on my way now _

[18:13 from: Alex]  _ You okay? _

_ Read: 18:14 _

 

//

 

Kara keeps her door unlocked for Alex, lets her barge in with terse eyes and worried lines across her face. She spots Kara moments after coming in, wrapped up in a throw blanket Eliza had knitted for her, pint of ice cream between her legs on the couch as she spoons it into her mouth.

“Jesus, Kara,” Alex sighs, sits beside her, shoulders brushing. “What happened to make you think coconut was a good flavour.”

“It’s not  _ that _ bad,” she defends, offers Alex a spoon.

Alex takes it, winces when she tastes the ice cream. “The problem, or the flavour? Because I can assure you, that was terrible.”

Kara dips her head, chuckle rumbling in her throat and Alex nudges her.

“Okay, so the problem isn’t that bad either. I just,” she shrugs. “I don’t know how to handle it?”

Alex lets out a  _ tsk _ , wraps her arm around Kara’s shoulders.

“Since when did you not know how to handle something?” Alex bows her head, meets Kara’s eye. “Have you tried punching this problem? That usually seems to work for you.”

“I can't just  _ punch her _ , Alex.”

Alex stills against her, and it's in that moment that Kara realises she’s never really talked about this, about  _ girls _ with Alex before, not from her perspective.

“Before we get into this,” Alex warns, gnaws her lip. “ _ Please _ tell me it’s not the journalism professor that gives you motivational speeches.”

“Miss Grant?” Kara barks out a laugh, cheeks rosy. “I, no, Miss Grant is - she’s. No, it’s not her.”

Alex hums, inclines her head for Kara to fill in the blanks.

“No offence, Kara, but I’m struggling to think of any other women in our lives. Wait,” Alex’s chin dimples, eyes squinting. “I don’t think it’s Lucy Lane, because that would be some weird pseudo junk with Clark  _ and _ James. She’s hot, though, so if it is, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“It’s not Lucy, either.” Kara’s breath stutters in her throat, and she tries to clear it, twists her watch over her wrist until she feels it burst out of her, “I think, maybe - no, not maybe. Definitely. That I, definitely, have feelings - that I like Lena Luthor.”

“Lena Luthor,” Alex takes a second, lets her brain catch up, and Kara can feel the way that Alex vibrates with both excitement and horror. “As in, pencil skirt, crazy adoptive anti-alien family, Lena Luthor?”

“She’s not,” Kara pauses, sets her frustration to the side. “She’s not  _ like them _ . I know it, Alex.”

“Hey,” Alex is soft, rubs her hand up and down Kara’s arm. “I don’t know the girl, I can’t judge her. I mean, I know her brother nearly killed Clark, so I’m a little worried. But, if you know in your gut, and your heart, that she’s nothing to worry about, then I believe you.”

Kara smiles at Alex, feels her eyes well up and Alex pulls her in, grounds her with a hug, lets Kara hug her as tight as humanly possible.

“I just,” she holds Alex, can’t look her in the eye. Not yet. “I have no idea how to do any of this. I mean, I’ve liked girls before, I’ve always thought they were pretty, and on Krypton it wasn’t ever really an issue because no one questioned the Matrix and-”

“Slow down, Kara,” Alex pulls away, enough to face Kara and see how red she is. “Girls, they’re - they’re definitely different from guys, a little more cryptic, a lot less easy. But, they’re,” she trails off, and Kara recognises that special glow about Alex, that one reserved for Maggie and Kara feels her heart thump, wonders if she looks like that to Alex now. “They’re magic, Kara.”

“So, you’re saying I should tell her?”

There’s a knock at Kara’s door, and Alex’s whole face lights up as Kara’s drops.

Surely not.

“It’s open,” Alex hollers, stands up from the couch, drags Kara with her. She peels the blanket off her, sets the pint on the coffee table just in time for Lena to poke her head through the door. Alex finishes in a whisper,  “I’m saying, don't miss your chance because of fear. Fall without flying, Kara.”

She kisses the top of Kara’s head, takes her glasses from the top of her head and hands them to her, pats down her hair as she winks at her.

“Lena,” Kara hates how breathless she sounds, how easy it's going to be for Alex to tease her for the rest of eternity. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” Lena looks at Alex, rosy in the cheeks with a crease between her brows and Alex smiles warm and welcoming.

“Don’t be, I was just leaving. See you later,” Alex takes the door handle from Lena, halfway shutting it and ushering Lena in as she says, “I’m her sister, by the way.”

And with that, Alex has slammed the door shut.

(Kara uses a quick glance of x-ray vision to make sure her ear isn't against the door.)

Lena is still standing over her threshold, just past the welcome mat, eyes wide and almost wet and her hair is falling over her shoulders in a way Kara has seen before but never appreciated, and she’s in faded navy joggers and a burgundy sweater and its then that Kara decides she  _ needs _ to tell Lena.

“Lena, I,”

But Lena’s taken Kara’s face into her hands, pulled her close enough that Kara can smell mint masking whiskey on her breath, close enough that Kara can see  _ something _ in Lena’s eyes and that if maybe she went to kiss her Lena wouldn’t stop her.

“Kara, something amazing has just happened,” Lena lowers her hands, rests them on Kara’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I - you just. You need to see this.”

“See what?”

Lena’s phone rings from her purse, and she whips it out and answers while making sure Kara follows her to the couch.

“Trust me, you’ll want to sit down for this,” Lena answers, then, swipes on her screen and Winn’s face takes up the whole of Lena’s phone. He’s grinning ear to ear, clinically white lights behind him. “Winn, thanks for doing this.”

_ “Anytime, Luthor,” _ Winn replies, smile even wider when he sees Kara.  _ “Kara, finally. I’ve been trying to FaceTime you guys for ten minutes.” _

Kara adjusts her glasses, “What’s going on? Why do you two even have each other’s numbers - wait, I don’t want to know.”

_ “Because science,” _ he pans the camera away from himself, and it's then that Kara realises Winn is in the observatory, that the  _ clicking _ is his fingers on keys.  _ “Okay so I’ve just hit up Lena’s phone with a stream, which should be coming in any minute now. Trust me, Kara, you’re going to love this - your girlfriend is really cool.” _

Kara doesn’t get to question him, Lena’s phone buzzes and she clicks on the link, handing the phone to Kara. Winn’s face minimizes to the corner of the screen, Lena leaning off to the side to let Kara have a moment - neither of them really exist to Kara now, anyway.

Because there, on the stream, is Krypton. 

An unglowing Krypton, Winn’s cursor zooming in to show Kara something that almost - no, definitely looks like a lake, maybe just a trough but--

“That’s water,” she says, doesn’t feel her mouth make the words but she hears herself, sees Lena nod from the corner of her eye. “Krypton has water.”

_ “Krypton has water, baby!”  _ Winn screams, coughs to cover it up.  _ “Sorry. But, right? This is great, Kara, it’s got a moon now. A  _ moon _. An atmosphere. Do you know what this means?” _

“ _ Zhehiodia _ ,” Kara utters. Her skin feels alight, her brain unable to catch up and it's not until Lena’s hand comes to her thigh that she realises she’s hovering two feet off the couch. “It’s  _ alive _ .”

_ “Hell yeah it is,” _ Winn seems like he wants to scream it, his voice caught in his throat, in something close to reverence and Kara is so,  _ so _ grateful for him in that moment, for Winn and Lena and Alex and James and for Krypton, for it holding on, for  _ herself _ for never giving up hope. 

“Thank you, Winn,” Lena says, eyes shining with kindness and something Kara might think are tears.

_ “It's no trouble, anything for Kara,” _ he comes back into full view now, runs a hand through his hair.  _ “You’re not half bad, either.” _

Lena lets out a wet laugh, sniffs. “Thanks. I’ll see you around?”

Kara focuses long enough to see Winn glance between the two of them, laugh lines deep as he smiles.

_ “The way you two are going? I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other a lot.” _

The screen goes dark, Winn’s face gone. Lena holds her hand over the phone, stops short before looking up at Kara.

“You can look again at the stream, if you want.”

Kara shakes her head, breathes in sharply but not painfully. “Has this gone viral?”

“No, it's an encrypted file between Winn and I,” she raises a brow, smirks. “I don't even think my brother could hack this.”

“Could I - could you send it to me?” She asks, Lena doesn’t hesitate to nod. “I want to show my cousin, he might not know a lot about home but - but he might want to learn now.”

Lena takes the phone, sets it down on the coffee table.

“I can send it to you in the morning, if you’d like?”

Kara rushes into her, wraps her solidly between her arms, presses against her so firmly that Kara worries for a second if she’s done something wrong because Lena is so still.

But Lena’s hands run up her back and Kara feels herself shiver, buries her head into the crook of Lena’s neck and doesn’t realise she’s crying until she feels the wetness against her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Lena just holds her tighter, lets her heart stutter against Kara’s. “ _ Nahkluv, zhao _ .”

 

* * *

Kara wakes up alone on the couch, nose buried in Eliza’s blanket but the scent isn’t familiar; there’s something soft to it, something floral and calms Kara right to her bones. She doesn’t open her eyes, not yet, scrunches her nose and feels that her glasses aren’t there anymore - that’s when she bolts upright, eyes adjusting, settling on Lena.

She hasn’t seen Kara, not yet, back turned to her as she butters toast. The smell of cinnamon and fresh coffee rises Kara to her feet, padding towards the kitchen island. Lena turns when Kara pulls the chair up, the leg scraping the floor but Lena doesn’t seem to mind, faces Kara with a smile that turns her boneless and,  _ really _ , how did Kara not realise sooner?

“I remembered your morning appetite is somehow larger than your usual,” Lena says, places the plate in front of her. “So, I cooked the whole loaf. But don’t worry, I went out and got this one fresh so I didn’t use up what was in your pantry.”

Kara’s head spins, unable to form words, let alone tell Lena that she could use the  _ entire _ pantry and Kara would be fine with it, that Lena could have left but didn’t (and how that makes her feel like she’s swimming,  _ drowning _ ), that she’s completely, terribly, terrifyingly kind of in love with her.

Kara thanks her with the first slice of toast lodged between her cheek and teeth, gives her a thumbs up and Lena brings her hand to her neck, rubs the flush of it while laughing  _ that _ laugh, her laugh that Kara thinks maybe, might be just for her.

“Thank you,” Kara says between her fourth and fifth slice, slows down just enough to keep conversation because if Lena keeps looking at Kara like - like  _ that _ , she might combust. “And not just for breakfast, for like, everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the reply is smooth but Kara sees Lena’s lips, sees them quirk and the quiver before her teeth are bared in a smile. “I added you to the stream, too, just after you fell asleep.”

Kara remembers it, vaguely, in a soft around the edges distortion: Kara stops crying but stays, head against Lena’s shoulder, Lena kissing the crown of her head, Lena lying her down on the couch when she tells her she’s exhausted, Lena plucking the glasses from her ears,  _ “sweet dreams, darling.” _

Oh.

Oh, no.

Her hands rush to her face, feels skin instead of lead, she feels panic pool like ice until Lena gently grazes a hand against hers, tugs it down onto the counter until their fingers thread together.

“Kara,” she hears Lena say, but she’s stuck, somewhere between fight or flight or just  _ running _ . “Kara, hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not, I - I wanted to tell you.”

“It’s not something easy to tell,” Lena shrugs. “Not with my family tree. I don't blame you, and I understand your reservations.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Kara huffs, tries to find the words but it's so  _ hard _ to when Lena’s finger is tracing circles on the inside of her palm, up to her wrist and down again. “It’s  _ not _ that, I promise. It’s, well, you’re important, and the research is even more important because it could mean so much for your career and company and the university. And its habit to only have close friends and my family know, not that you aren’t a close friend because you’re like, my  _ closest _ and-”

“Kara,” and that stops her, stops everything, because she’d never heard her name with such…  _ affection _ since her mother, just before she was told to make them proud, that they would be no matter what she did on Earth.

“You’re more important than the research to me,” Kara explains, taps her fingers against Lena’s palm. “I didn’t want the history to ruin anything between us.”

Lena smirks then, arches a brow and Kara regrets her entire life in that second.

“So there’s  _ things _ between us?”

She pinches at Lena’s skin, just a little, enough to make her squeak. When she does, Kara flushes and vows to  _ never _ do that again, for her own sanity.

“Is this going to change anything, though?” Kara asks, wary and the way Lena slackens, holds her hand properly, rubs her thumb along her knuckles, it already gives Kara the answer. “Closure, with Krypton - it’d be nice. Can you still help, with that?”

Lena leans forward on the counter, eyes never leaving Kara’s as she brings their hands up, dusts the smallest and softest of kisses on her knuckles.

“Without question, love.”

Kara doesn’t feel herself short circuit, just knows suddenly everything she’d learnt on Earth has completely left her brain. She has a brain with more power than any human, holds more knowledge than they could ever know as a species, and yet she feels herself turn to jelly when Lena utters the affection, feels her stomach flip and she has to look down to avoid Lena seeing how flustered she truly is.

“I can’t believe it,” she mumbles, lost in stutters, in half thought out sentences, in proclamations she  _ shouldn’t  _ be saying, not yet.

Lena leans her head on her arms, meets Kara’s eyes with a smile that radiates hope, radiates the  _ thing _ they’ll talk about eventually, just not yet.

“A Luthor and a Super, working together.”

 

* * *

Kara thinks she might kiss Lena Luthor three times that week.

(In her defence, she nearly has. Every time.)

It starts slow, the first time. They’re in the observatory, Lena hunched over a file, scribbling away at notes, annotating with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Kara hasn't even tried to pretend she wasn't staring, wasn't in complete at total awe. Strangely but softly intimate, the hushed silence that falls over the room not uncomfortable - but  _ charged _ .

It started in the pads of Kara’s fingers - burning,  _ aching _ to move that lock of hair hanging down the side of Lena’s face, to curl it behind her ear and draw her in.

She feels the telltale tingle in the tendons of her hand, the one that tells her she’s going to do it, she’s going to lean in, to ask in the softest voice if Lena would allow her to kiss her, to press against her until they both shake with the force of it.

But Lena looks up, flashes Kara a small smile and slides the file over, lets it hang between them and Kara thinks that her shoulder against Lena’s is enough for now.

 

//

 

It's more a rushed feeling the second time, a bang and sizzle when Lena trips on the staircase leading to Kara’s apartment and Kara caught her.

Lena was so breathless, so  _ close _ that Kara didn’t need her hearing to recognise Lena’s heartbeat hammering. Her eyes had fluttered down to Kara’s lips and Kara felt as if she’d watched everything in slow motion, that she was on a plane directly opposite her own, mind leaving her body as Lena’s cheeks flushed and she’d inched closer just so slightly.

But the kids from apartment fifty-two rush down the stairs, feet hammering and their yells yank Kara away from Lena, put enough space between them for Lena to be against the rail and her against the wall opposite.

Lena watches them run fondly and Kara watches Lena.

(Imagines a raven haired girl, slight and pale with bright blue eyes flying past her mothers as they chase her with laughter bubbling their throats.)

 

//

 

The third time, well.

They’re sitting together on Kara’s couch,  _ sitting _ meaning Kara taking up all the room claiming the need to stretch her superpowered muscles, leaving Lena to half lie in the gap, half on top of Kara.

(Not that Kara’s complaining.

Not that Kara did this on purpose.)

Kara yawns, the blurred static of the TV humming a white noise rhythm in her ears, soothing her rampant heart - if only for a second, only ever for a second around Lena.

But there’s a feral glint in Lena’s eye, one that Kara notices far too late, yawn only halfway through when Lena’s hands come up the seams of Kara’s sweater to tickle at her ribs. 

Kara jolts and Lena cackles, Kara’s body folding in half, throwing them to the ground. With the air knocked out of them both, Kara rushes to apologise, checks Lena for bruises and whispers apologies and running her fingers through her hair and Kara really  _ is _ worrying now because Lena is barely breathing at all and--

_ Oh. _

Lena’s jaw hangs, enough to notice but not enough to be obvious, but Kara sees it, sees  _ everything _ \- is hyper aware of Lena, of the hair starting to fall down the side of her face, of her rosy cheeks and half lidded eyes. Her hands are still under Kara’s sweater, under  _ her shirt _ as well, fingertips hot on Kara’s ribs and Kara knows she’s superpowered and alien but she feels like she could just  _ break _ under Lena right now.

The carpet is starting to itch against the slither of bare back above her jeans but she doesn’t mind, doesn’t  _ care _ , because Lena opens her mouth to say something but no words come out and Kara stares at her, wide eyed but sure and she nods.

Lena beats her to it.

The first press of Lena’s mouth is so soft, so slow that Kara believes its almost  _ sacred _ , that she’s been undeniably blessed, that Lena is the one who is unearthly, ethereal and unreal. Kara pushes back, enough to tell Lena,  _ show _ Lena she’s sure.

Lena draws away for breath, bottom lip shaking against Kara’s before she grins, fingers more certain as they dig into her skin and her bottom lip fits snug between Kara’s.

Kara absolutely  _ zinged _ with the electricity of it all, of Lena so close, so tangible against her ,with her teeth grazing her lip and the way her smile slanted against Kara’s own. 

She felt every atom within her vibrate,  _ combust _ . She was torn down to rubble and rebuilt, Lena catching her, holding her together with pliant hands. 

Kara crumbled, succumbed, kissed Lena back so firmly that there was no doubt in Lena’s mind, that this was it, that this matters and its real and its  _ hopeful _ .

Kara things of Krypton, if only for an instant, of how it had lost it all, lost itself and someone still managed to find a moon, to find something to keep it going.

With Lena against her, so fully and whole, so  _ adoringly  _ \-- Kara can only think of seconds chances, of rebirth.

If only for an instant, before her mind drifts completely as Lena’s hand moves just so under the band of her jeans to rest on her hip.

Lena kisses Kara godless and Kara kisses Lena holy.

 

 


End file.
